


Eternal

by Liraeyn



Series: Eternal [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Redemption, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liraeyn/pseuds/Liraeyn
Summary: Hela fights for Asgard. Odin must choose between his wife and his son. A child is born to death. In this world, nothing is as it seems.  The road to Hel is paved with good intentions, and one simple accident grows beyond anyone's control.  A crisis drives Odin to seek help from an unlikely source.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper has devoted her life to caring for others. All is routine, until a mysterious man arrives. She will never know what it is she's discovered.

I own copies of Thor 1 and 2. Not the rights to this. 

All of these are fan theories based on the MCU. I may borrow elements from comics or mythology, but as I’m not well familiar with those, I wouldn’t count on anything in particular. If you have a request, leave a review. Or, you know, review anyway. 

********  
For the middle of winter, the day was pleasantly sunny. Most of the residents lounged in the living area, the more lucid ones chatting pleasantly, or cuddling one of several felines, or entertaining their great-great-grandchildren. Even the other ones, who never talked anymore, were wheeled out into the room to enjoy the day. 

Piper had appointed herself to care for one such man. Known only as John Doe, he’d arrived in a coma on her day off. The others only said that a man claiming to be “John”’s son told them that he would likely wake soon and to take care of him. She’d kept her doubts to herself. Usually, her patients only ever went downhill. 

But today, his left eye was open. Blue-grey, pupil pinpoint in the bright sun. The other eye had evidently been lost somehow, but without any sort of medical history she could only guess. She’d put his age at about eighty-five, but again, that was just a guess. The oldest resident in this particular nursing home was one hundred and four years old, but sharp as a tack and currently deep in one-way conversation with her roommate, twenty-five years younger, who never spoke. 

“Hello.” 

The simple greeting startled Piper. It hadn’t occurred to her that “John” would still be capable of speech. Quickly, she composed herself. 

“Hello, I’m Piper.” 

“John” smiled at her. “I’m Oscar.” 

She made a mental note of that. At least she could call him by name. Hello, my name is... 

“Do you know where you are?” 

Oscar looked around as if noticing their surroundings for the first time. Then: 

“I guess you take care of people here.” 

As good an assessment as any. 

********  
Caretaker and patient soon fell into a rhythm. Oscar would on occasion leave his room to interact with the other patients, or to eat, but mostly he just sat in his room, watching the sun. Piper would sometimes talk to him, or just bring him food and tend to his needs. 

In the second bed was a man named David, who slept most of the time. Unlike many of the patients, he actually had a diagnosis, of terminal lung cancer. Two of his grandchildren had visited once, when he still woke often enough, to say their goodbyes. 

The day came, when the daffodils in the window box were starting to poke up a few timid spears, that the morning routine was interrupted by Piper setting down the breakfast tray, dashing into the adjoining bathroom, and emptying her stomach into the toilet. After rinsing in the sink, she sheepishly made her way back into the room. Oscar smirked at her. 

“Trouble?” 

He gestured at her abdomen, which was still perfectly flat, or so she told herself. Not that it really mattered if she couldn’t keep breakfast down. Recent developments were becoming blindingly obvious. 

“Yeah, so, not what I had in mind for this stage of my life, but I was out drinking...” She couldn’t help a chuckle. “He was kind of cute, but I never saw him again.” 

Piper turned towards David, pretending to verify that his condition was unchanged. How long did he have? Years, hours, it was impossible to say. The beginning and end of life, together in one room. After a few minutes, she continued. 

“I’ve been thinking of giving it up.” 

Oscar tilted his head. “My wife and I adopted a baby boy. He’d been abandoned at a church. If you do end up giving it away, do better than that.” 

Piper filed that away, then realized something. “Was that who dropped you off? Oh, wait, you were in a coma...” 

“I could hear him talking. I can always hear what’s going on, even see things sometimes, but I can’t move.” 

She suppressed a shudder. Being trapped in one’s own body seemed terrible, even if one did wake up later. Then she realized something. 

“Has that happened before?” 

Oscar nodded. “Often enough. I just need to sleep sometimes.” 

Piper realized he considered that a reasonable explanation, and changed the subject. “So you have a wife and son?” 

“Actually, we-” He broke off, as if remembering something. “My wife died a while back. I had a daughter before we were together, then we had a son together, then we adopted a baby...” 

Piper stayed as long as she could, listening to him talk about his family. Where exactly they’d all ended up, she couldn’t say. Certainly, his youngest must still be alive, unless that had changed in the three years Oscar had been living here. She’d done what digging she could, but all that got her was an official-looking e-mail telling her to “cease and desist”. She’d decided to follow that advice. 

After she finished the day’s rounds, Piper went back to Oscar’s room to check on him and David. Oscar had moved to a chair near David’s bed and was watching him quietly. After a moment, she realized he’d stopped breathing. 

“It was peaceful.” 

Oscar said no more, just watched his friend as she left the room and started the inevitable paperwork. Nothing she hadn’t done before. Time of death (approximate), patient’s name (David Evan Baxter), date of birth (some eighty years previously). At least he’d had a long life. 

The next morning, the room was empty. No one seemed to know where Oscar could have gone. His bed was stripped and the bedding thoughtfully placed in the laundry hamper. On the windowsill, there was a notecard with a simple message. 

“Your lives are so short. Live them well.” 

*


	2. Birthright

2\. 

Just so we’re clear, we’ve gone back in time from the first chapter. No, we won’t be seeing Piper again, in case you were wondering. She’ll need to find a new job at some point, since the care home closed, but she and Junior will be just fine. Unless they get snapped because Thanos is a *. 

********   
Odin would never forget the day Frigga felt their child moving for the first time. 

He’d been training with Hela, father and daughter slashing at each other with whatever weapon it was this time. He enjoyed a variety, while she generally preferred Mjolnir. For all their different combat styles, they were matched easily enough that it was a challenge every time. 

But all that had come to a crashing halt when a servant ran up, out of breath. His Queen had requested his presence. 

He’d left Hela behind with barely a thought. In retrospect, perhaps he should have asked her if she wanted to come with him. Whether that would have made any difference, it was impossible to say. 

Hela’s own mother had died before she could give birth, and he’d had to cut her open to rescue his daughter. Sometimes he wondered if that was why she’d developed such an affinity for death. It was her birthright. 

She got along well enough with Frigga, who wasn’t much older. They’d even sparred on occasion, sword and a little magic versus Mjolnir. Odin thought it clear that Hela would soon outstrip her stepmother’s skill in combat, much to their pride. But today, she could wait. 

The messenger didn’t actually say why he’d been summoned, but she didn’t seem overly alarmed, just excited. She led him to Frigga’s chambers, which were buzzing with activity as servants and healers scurried in every direction. 

Frigga herself sat on her couch, one hand on her belly, smiling contentedly. When he reached her, she took his hand and held it to a specific place. After a few moments, something jumped inside and he burst out laughing. 

It’s a boy, he thought, or perhaps hoped. We’ve made a warrior son to match my warrior daughter. 

*   
A soldier, this time. 

There was a brief lull in the fighting on Midgard. The mortals had long since fled, but a few faces could be seen in the windows, curious creatures that they were. Odin wondered what they would make of Hela smashing through an entire battalion of Jotuns, then promptly raising the dead of two worlds to fight for her. A handy trick for battles such as this one, with heavy casualties on both sides. Their army grew with every battle. They were unstoppable. 

Until, of course, some soldier, whose name was lost to time, came in out of breath and anxious. 

“My king-” He clasped a fist over his chest. “The healers sent me. The child comes, but something is wrong.” 

That was all it took. He left Hela in charge. He would have plenty of time to regret that later. 

*   
The scene was eerily familiar. Healers running in every direction, Frigga and her swollen belly at the center. Anguish on her face this time, blood on the sheets. He wrapped his arms around her and could feel her breathing, shallow and fast. 

Eir put her hand on his shoulder and he spun to face her, battle-ready even though the fight was not his own. The healer’s face was grim, flushed from excitement turned fear. 

“My king- the child is turned the wrong way. It won’t be born like this.” 

“Can you turn it?” 

She shook her head. “I tried, but it’s too late for that. I could take the baby out, but it wouldn’t survive.” 

To his surprise, Frigga didn’t react. Either she’d already heard the details, or she was too exhausted to understand. But Eir wasn’t finished. 

“I could cut the Queen open to bring the baby out, but that would likely kill her. But I have to do one or the other, and soon, or we’ll lose them both.” 

Frigga went limp in his arms an he realized she’d passed out. He laid her on the bed and smoothed her hair back. Still beautiful, as she always would be. 

They’d met at a ball Bor had organized in an effort to bind some of the Realms together. The Vanir princess had caught his eye, but so had many others. It was only the next day, when she’d changed from her blue ball gown into simple clothes to assist the birth of a servant’s baby that he realized how beautiful she truly was. So gentle and loving, but fiercely protective of anyone she cared about. 

Their betrothal under a blood moon, at the edge of a tranquil lake. Just the two of them. So much more meaningful than their eventual wedding, with adoring crowds nearly drowning out their vows. Bor had performed the ceremony as a sign of the pride he would never voice. 

That had been one of his last acts as king, as it turned out. A stray arrow during a mock battle, much like Hela’s mother and just as suspicious. This time, at least, they caught the assassin and swiftly executed him. Odin’s first act as king. 

His second had been to lead Asgard to war to protect Midgard. And now this, to choose who would live and die, between his wife and his child. 

His first thought was to sacrifice the child. They could make another, easily enough. Yes, he could certainly order that done. No one would blame him. But was that really the right thing? 

Then he thought of the joy on her face when she told him they had a baby, when it quickened, when they discussed names, when he left for Midgard and promised to come back safe. He’d gone to war to protect the mortals, and back on Asgard, she’d fought her own battle. And he knew she would want the child to live. 

He gave her one last kiss and told Eir to get the child out, but do what she could to save them both. 

Eir did ask him if he wanted to watch. There was nothing going on that he hadn’t seen before, albeit more violently. But this was Frigga, and he couldn’t bring himself to watch. He left them with instructions to tell him when it was over. 

To his surprise, an apprentice soon left the room, with a squirming bundle in her arms. 

“You have a son.” 

Odin took the blanket-wrapped infant in his arms as gently as he could. The baby was awake and active, which he took as a good sign. The sheer silence of the room he could only assume was that of death. 

Minutes passed, and eventually Eir herself came out, arms and robes streaked with blood. She looked profoundly exhausted. Her voice was weak and quiet. 

“The Queen sleeps. I’ve done what I can for her, but you may want to say goodbye.” 

He nodded and walked slowly in, trying to maintain some sort of composure. Massive bloodstains darkened the sheets underneath Frigga’s body. He had to check for breathing several times to be certain she still lived. 

The wound running up her abdomen had been neatly stitched. If he didn’t look too closely, he could almost believe it was no worse than the slice he’d gotten down his arm during training. 

He laid their newborn son on the bed next to her, in the hope that she would somehow sense that the little one needed her. 

She didn’t respond. 

Her breathing was slow, but deep and steady. He had to hope she would make it. But he couldn’t stay with her to find out. He’d been gone too long already. 

Before he left, he told Eir to call the baby Thor, like thunder, like the violent storm he’d been born into. She told him to be glad he had two children. 

*   
Months went by. The war moved from Midgard to Jotunheim. Every time there was a lull in the fighting, he’d gone back to visit. Frigga pulled through, became stronger, loved her new child, but was understandably crushed that it was too risky to have any more. He would have to find a solution. Later. 

For now, he had to worry about Hela. Every time he left, the dead soldiers following her became far more numerous. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was planning something. To strike out on her own, to take over Asgard, or merely to impress him, he couldn’t say. Nothing good, certainly. But one crisis at a time. 

After all that time, they finally routed the last of the Jotuns from their hiding places and back through their portal. It took quite some time, as well as the best spells Hela and Odin could come up with, to permanently close it. The mortals didn’t need it, and Laufey didn’t deserve it. 

When it was done, father and daughter stood together, relaxing for the first time in decades. Odin smiled at Hela, but her gaze was dark. 

So that’s it, then. The war is over, and she’s disappointed. 

*   
The war had started badly and gotten worse. 

It was supposed to be simple. Take over Midgard. The locals were weak. The stronger ones would survive to serve and worship the far superior Jotuns. Their race would become stronger, strong enough to handle a colder, darker, world. 

Not as cold and dark as Jotunheim, of course. That was the whole point. Midgard had plenty of room for them to live, grow crops, raise livestock. The poles were cold enough for them to draw power, and the rest was usable land. Was it so much for them to want a better life? 

Apparently it was. 

Queen Lona had thought that the Asgardians would be content to drive them out of Midgard and back to Jotunheim. But here they were, everyone retreated or dead, with the dead rising and turning on their former comrades, and the fighting only got worse. Somewhere in the back of her head, she knew they just wanted to make sure the Jotuns would never try such an invasion again, and perhaps she couldn’t blame them. But why they cared so much about a realm of mortals that they themselves had conquered, it was impossible to say. 

Don’t conquer other realms. That’s our job. 

For all she tried to understand the reasoning behind the fact that an army of living and dead was overrunning the entire planet, it no longer mattered. The dead followed the commands of Odin’s berserker warrior princess, and the living had gone bloodthirsty. The air was full of children screaming, or worse, silence. 

No protection to be found in the child she carried. If anything, that would just make her more of a target, especially if they knew Laufey was the father. As if it even mattered. Far too soon, she could feel the beginnings of labor. Children are always the first victims in a conflict such as this. 

Hiding in the temple hadn’t been in the hope that the Asgardian soldiers would somehow respect it. She’d wanted to pray, to touch even for a moment the ancestors she would likely be joining all too soon. But now she couldn’t even walk anymore. Tears down her cheeks as she fought through the contractions. Too much, to soon. It would never make it. 

A nearby woman handed her a wad of leather to bite on, to muffle her cries. Their only real hope was to stay quiet and pray no one found them until it was over. Maybe a dozen or so Jotuns were hiding around the temple: mostly women, some children, a man missing his left arm. A few rogue soldiers, they could maybe handle, but any more than that and the others would likely abandon her to their swords. 

One last pain, a rush of blood and whatever else, and a small bloodstained creature slid into the waiting hands. Lona took one look at the woman’s face and knew it was over. One more victim of a war that had gone badly wrong. The de facto midwife bundled the dead baby, cord, and placenta into a rough blanket and offered it to her. She planted a kiss on the lined forehead and tucked him -it was a him- into a nearby alcove. Nothing else to be done. 

The small group quickly left, Lona leaning on one shoulder or another. What exactly she would tell Laufey, she would worry about later. If there ever was a “later”. 

*


	3. Reborn

As far as Odin could tell, this seemed to be the capital. What looked like a palace, complete with a throne and the nearby pedestal holding some sort of blue glowing thing. It looked important, so he ordered it brought back to Asgard and locked in the vault. 

The soldier appointed to the task had barely lifted it from its place when a blast of ice shot out of nowhere, knocking him to the ground and killing him instantly. Odin aimed Gungnir in the direction he thought it had come from and fired back, blasting a hole in the palace wall. Another blast, this one smaller and worse-aimed, flew over his head and smashed a column behind him. 

So that's it then. You're not as done fighting as I had believed. 

The assailant was quickly revealed to be Laufey himself, directly engaging the Asgardians for the first time in the war. He spoke quietly, but his voice was strong. 

"You coward. Fight me yourself, just the two of us." 

At Odin's command, the soldiers surrounding him backed away. Laufey wielded a spear not unlike Gungnir, one that fired ice instead of light. The two of them swiped at each other, smashing more of the building in the process. Laufey tired quickly, and Odin realized he'd been caught in the leg by a stray arrow. For whatever reason, there was a bit of sympathy there, for the Jotun who had bitten off far more than he could chew. 

"Surrender now, and I will spare your life. I will call my soldiers away-" 

Laufey swiped at Odin mid-sentence, catching him in the right eye. All at once, Odin blasted back and smashed Laufey into the wall. He'd shut his eye against the impact and couldn't figure out how bad the damage was, but it had to end now. This time, he aimed at Laufey's staff, and after a brief moment of resistance, it shattered in several pieces. Odin rushed over and held Gungnir to the Jotun king's throat. 

At that, Laufey held up his hands. Odin was tempted to kill him anyway, and Laufey obviously knew it, but after a moment, he lowered Gungnir and walked away, grabbing the Casket. 

The soldiers were shocked at his appearance, but said nothing. One of them bundled the Casket into a cloth bag and carried it away, while two more huddled around Odin defensively. 

There was more to be done, of course there was, to solidify Jotunheim's surrender, but it could wait. He was losing a lot of blood. Quickly, he cast a healing spell, one that would send him to sleep for a while but rejuvenate him upon waking. He'd been working on it for a while, but had never actually cast it before. He could only hope it would work as intended. 

The grey and white of Jotunheim shimmered around him as he collapsed to the ground, but did not fade away. Eventually, it was replaced by the rainbow of the Bifrost, then the gold of Asgard. He was safely home. 

********  
Hela had other matters on her mind. Dead soldiers all around, or dying ones who could easily be coaxed from the land of the living. The dead were easier to control. She glanced over her shoulder. Odin had left for Asgard again, presumably to visit Frigga and that squealing infant. 

She'd liked Frigga well enough, though she was more of a sister than the mother she’d never had. A child was a natural following to her father's second marriage, so she hadn't been all that surprised, just a bit disappointed. Somewhere in the back of her head, she’d thought herself enough of an heir for anyone. 

One of the soldiers came up to her. "My lady, the king has been taken to the healers." 

Hela was shocked. "He was unharmed when last I saw him." 

"When he removed the Casket from the palace, Laufey tried to stop him. He hasn't fought in the war at all, preferring to lead from behind. His people's lives weren't worth fighting for, but that thing- that source of their power..." 

"There's a reason we're the good guys." Hela cut him off, understanding. "And my father?" She would never admit it, least of all to a passing soldier, but she hoped he would be unable to continue their battles. She could manage on her own far better without Odin to tell her when she did something he didn't like. Such as killing their own soldiers to end their misery, or more accurately, to make them more useful to herself. Dead soldiers don’t panic, or lose heart, or commit mutiny. They’re so much more useful than living ones. They don’t even need feeding, just a little trickle of her substantial power to keep them going. 

But that was beside the point, now. Any more deaths would just attract Odin's attention, after his recovery... 

"How badly wounded?" 

The soldier shrugged. "I'm no healer, but I think he's lost an eye. I can keep you posted..." 

"Thank you." 

As the battlefield cleared, Hela turned her attention to a grand building to her left. They'd already ransacked the palace, so what could this one be? Some sort of gathering place? 

She wandered in, struck by the size of it. One large room and a few alcoves. The walls covered in frescoes of what was probably Jotun history, or mythology, the two being difficult to distinguish. History is only told by the winners, or at least, the survivors. 

Perhaps it was some sort of school, or museum, or... 

A table that seemed to be an altar, at one end. A temple, then, if the building could have only one purpose. Looking in the corners for anything interesting, she noted only a few discarded objects, such as shoes or blankets, apparently dropped in the rush to evacuate from the incoming army. Nothing worth grabbing, until- 

A bundle on a shelf, wrapped in a rough blanket stained dark blue, the color of Jotun blood she'd seen many times in the past few years. 

As she got closer, Hela realized it was a dead Jotun baby, left behind in the rush. Hardly worse than the atrocities committed by the Jotuns during the war, certainly no worse than her own actions, but something about it caught her attention. 

Maybe it was just that she was the goddess of death, and the child seemed to have been stillborn. Born to death, much like her. For whatever reason, she decided to investigate more. 

Retrieving memories from another's mind was a spell Frigga had been teaching her recently, but when she'd tried it, it had gone well enough. Whether the baby before her had any memories to retrieve, there was only one way to find out. Laying her hand on his lined forehead, she began the spell. 

To no surprise on her part, the memories were of near-total darkness; he'd never opened his eyes. A few voices, mostly that of a woman who had to be his mother. Her name was Lona. That rang a bell, and she remembered that that was the name of one of Laufey's concubines. So, this was a lost prince. 

Nothing useful there, but there were memories not the child's own. Some sort of instinctive knowledge innate to his species. The Casket, the source of their power, responded best to royal blood- 

This abandoned scrap may prove useful. 

"With the Eternal Flame, you are reborn." 

The baby slowly opened orange eyes and looked at her. She suppressed a smile, telling herself that she had no interest in a baby, and only wanted a weapon. Liar. 

The dead soldiers collapsed as Hela ended the spell commanding them. There would always be more of them, and reviving the child had taken more out of her than she expected. She would have to investigate later. For now, she simply cradled him in her hands. 

As soon as Hela lifted the now-crying baby, she felt a rush of her power going into him. It was a struggle simply to hold onto him as he thrashed around, the new sensation frightening him. Beneath her hands, his dull blue skin shimmered into the warmer tones to which she was accustomed. His fussing quieted as she wrapped him up in the blanket. 

"Okay, then. We're going to Asgard. You'll like it there. It's nothing like this place." 

The tiny bundle concealed under her green cloak, Hela made her way back to the Bifrost site. That intricate design seared into the snow. She could have looked at it forever, but never got more than a few seconds before being retrieved by Heimdall, and this was no exception. The rainbow light pulled her up, away from the ice and snow and darkness, and back towards her home. 

Landing on the bridge, Hela quickly verified that the child was hidden. Heimdall would definitely notice, but he owed her a favor anyway. Between the inevitable celebrations for a victory and the grief over the ones who would never return home, everyone had more important matters on their minds than Hela's war prize. 

A brief exchange with Heimdall ensured that he would maintain her secret, and provided her with Frigga's location: the healing rooms. Odin was uninjured except for his missing eye, but had yet to regain consciousness. 

When Hela knocked at the door, Frigga ducked away from Odin's side quickly, Thor in her arms. The two of them walked up the hall to Frigga's chambers in silence. Eventually, Hela broke it. 

"How is my father?" 

Frigga hesitated. "His eye is gone, but that doesn't explain why he sleeps so deeply. I can only guess the battle exhausted him. He'll need a while to heal." 

"And what about you, and the baby?" 

"We're well enough, thank you. Thor's starting to stand up, but no steps yet." 

Hela laughed. "Before long, he'll be running everywhere and you'll wish you could carry him around again." 

"That's probably true." 

The two of them sat on Frigga's couch for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's company after years apart. Frigga opened the top of her gown and began to feed Thor, who gurgled happily around the milk. 

"Are you happy?" 

Hela's question seemed to startle Frigga. It wasn't often that Hela, or anyone else, wondered about Frigga's thoughts. Much of Asgard regarded her as a companion for the All-father, as a mother to their prince. But it was a question, which demanded an answer. 

"I am happy enough. I have a beautiful baby boy, I have you for a daughter and a friend. But I can't bear another child, and there's a part of me that desperately wants to." 

"Would this help?" 

For the rest of her life, Hela would treasure the look on Frigga's face as she opened her cloak and revealed the sleeping child. Total surprise, amusement, just a trace of fear. All the things she lived for. 

"What- where did you get a baby?" 

Hela had been thinking of a story. The truth would never do, but there's always something worse than the truth, and the worse a story is, the more people will believe it. So she went with a simple, but horrible, lie. It was close enough to the truth. 

"They abandoned him in their temple. Maybe because he’s that small, or because it was a battle and they had other priorities. Maybe both. Anyway, I thought you might like him, or we could find someone else." 

After a moment, Frigga set Thor down on the floor to crawl around happily. She extended her hands to the foundling infant, and Hela handed him over. His eyes were open, revealing a green shade that matched Hela's magic. How much of her had he taken? He would either be her best friend or her worst enemy. Or maybe her best friend and a thorn in Odin's side. 

"Hello, there," Frigga whispered to the baby. "Are you hungry?" 

As Frigga nursed the child, Hela came up with a plan. Odin would have to know the baby's origins, and maybe Eir, and Heimdall already did, but they could keep it secret from everyone else. She explained her plan to Frigga, who agreed more readily than Hela had expected. It seemed fairly clear that Frigga had bonded with her new child and would act accordingly. 

"I think I could plant memories in Odin's head, convince him that he took the baby himself. He'd accept it a lot better if he thought it was his own idea." 

Frigga chuckled. "Classic men. If you can do that, I can get everyone else to think I gave birth to another child. Except Eir. She'll definitely have to know the truth." 

"Sounds like a plan." 

********  
Odin had been laid in a bed in an otherwise empty room. What exactly was going on, no one was sure, but they were optimistic he would recover, albeit with only one eye. 

Hela slipped in, invisible, without anyone noticing. A hand on his forehead, and she was inside his mind easily enough. Whether he would realize the memories were false, now or later, she could only guess. 

Odin searched the temple cautiously for any stragglers, Gungnir in his hand. Nothing worth worrying about, except for a squirming bundle in the corner. Concerned about a potential ambush, he walked towards it and knelt down in front of the tiny creature. 

The baby was small and skinny, likely born too early. Not worth the hassle of carrying away, or the risk of it screaming when one needed to hide. Abandoning it had a certain brutal logic. 

"I'm sorry this happened to you." 

Odin's hand went to the knife at his waist. It would be easy enough to put the dying infant out of its misery. But for some reason, he left the blade where it was. After a long moment, he lifted the child into his arms. It smiled at him as its skin softened from dark blue to match Odin's own. He had to laugh at that. 

Wrapping the baby boy in his cloak, he left the temple quickly. Heimdall retrieved him and Hela at the same time; his daughter noticed the stolen bundle but did not bother asking. Smuggling the child into the palace was easy enough in the chaos. 

Frigga came to greet him, and accepted the child without question. He told her to decide what to do with it, before heading to the healing room. He barely made it through the door before collapsing from blood loss. 

Hela finished her work and removed her hand. She thought the memories would take, but wouldn't find out until later, if ever. 

A commotion behind her. Specifically, a distress signal from Frigga. Healers running up to her chambers; Hela joined in, wondering what her stepmother had come up with. 

To her surprise, what she knew to be illusion looked very real. Bloodstains on the bed, newborn child in her arm. Frigga's eyes were bloodshot, her clothing half-off and red with blood. The child in her arms looked like any other Aesir newborn. 

"I-" Even Frigga's voice was ragged and exhausted. If Hela didn't know better, the Queen had actually just given birth, on her own, to an Asgardian child. "I didn't realize there was a child-" 

So that was her plan, then. It had been long enough since Thor, if she and Odin had been together quickly enough afterward. There would certainly be questions, as to how a woman could not recognize a pregnancy until labor began, but Hela could picture a few answers. After the violent end to her first pregnancy, Frigga would be unlikely to recover fully, certainly not within a few months, and who could blame her if she thought it would be impossible? Least of all with a war and a lively toddler to take her mind off things. 

Soon enough, Asgard's entire royal family, which had grown from two to five in a matter of a few years, occupied a healing room to themselves. Eir soon saw through Frigga's deception, but soon promised to keep it to herself. The baby's true nature intrigued her, and she left them to bond with a promise to conduct research on Jotuns and come back soon to examine him. 

Frigga cradled her new son gently, periodically glancing between him, Thor, Odin, and Hela. There was humor in her gaze on her stepdaughter, knowing the secret they shared. After a while: 

"I want to call him Loki."


	4. Regret

I hate to be that author begging for reviews, but it would be nice to hear from you guys. What do you think of this, do you have any questions, do you have requests? Anything would be nice. 

********  
Asgard had completed another circuit of its mother star by the time its people regained some measure of stability. Bodies were tended to, new laws were drawn up, and the two new princes were hailed as a symbol of rebirth. 

Thor was running everywhere by then, much to the chagrin of Nora, who’d been “volunteered” to mind him. Loki, as they’d named the new baby, rarely left Frigga’s arms, unless he was deeply asleep in his crib. Barely anyone else could hold him for long without him raising a fuss, with two notable exceptions: Odin and Hela. 

Odin awoke from his strange slumber to announce that such a thing would become fairly normal. When his wife and daughter introduced him to his new son, he accepted the baby without question. Hela's implanted memories had served their purpose, and he had no idea it was their first meeting. He was proud of his undersized war trophy. But rebuilding damaged worlds consumed most of his time and before too long, his two youngest children were almost an afterthought. 

Hela would visit them on occasion, when she felt like it. Minding Loki for a while, reinforcing their shared bond, was likely the closest she would get to raising a child of her own. She was meant for death, not life. 

But today, holding the child she had revived, one with far more life to him than her usual subjects, she could almost convince herself that he was hers. Not Odin's stolen relic, or even Frigga's surprise second child. She'd given him life in the way only she could. 

* 

The day the world ended, or at least, a world, Hela had been showing Loki the other stolen treasure. 

"This is the Casket of Ancient Winters. It wouldn't do much for one of us, but you're special. You're a prince of Jotunheim. It'll respond to you. Go on, touch it." 

The baby in her arms could sit up, usually, and reach for various objects, but there was no way he could understand her words. He did seem to have his own personality, unlike the berserkers that usually resulted from the Eternal Flame's power. Then again, she'd never revived a baby before. The immature mind could rebound from so much more. 

Loki let out a half gurgle and waved at the swirling light inside the Casket. Hela caught one of his flailing hands and touched it to the side. Within a few seconds, his right hand was blue again, frozen in place with tiny ice crystals. The air in the room turned cold. Hela silently congratulated herself on her decision to bring the Casket into her private room instead of testing her theory in the Vault, where alarms would have gone off already. 

In the centuries to come, she would deeply regret not locking the door. 

Conjuring a touch of flame, she loosened Loki's hand from the Casket, but the color remained, spreading up his arm. Hela lifted his sleeve and began to massage his arm gently, trying to restore the Aesir glamour, but it was slow to return. 

At that precise moment, the door opened and Nora put her head in. 

"My lady, have you seen Thor? He escaped from-" 

Hela covered Loki's arm quickly, but not quickly enough. Nora gasped and recoiled in shock. Hela tried to close the door with a quick spell, but missed and sent Nora sprawling on the hallway floor. And she'd seen the Casket. 

Hela got up, closed the door by hand, locked it, and took a few deep breaths. Think, think... A quick wave of her hand, and the Casket was back in the Vault where it belonged. Where it should have stayed. But Nora would realize quickly enough the truth of what she'd seen. Which meant she would have to die if Hela couldn't erase that memory. 

But there was a bigger problem. Loki was now completely blue. 

Bundling her baby brother, as it were, in his blanket, Hela ducked out the door into the now-empty hallway and flat-out sprinted to the only person she could ask for help: Frigga. 

* 

Frigga had just corralled a hyperactive Thor when Hela burst through the door, looking flustered. She'd been using a lot of magic; Frigga could tell that. She set Thor in his playpen -the only real way to contain him- and closed the door behind her stepdaughter. 

"Are you hurt?" 

Hela shook her head and unwrapped the bundle in her arms. Frigga gasped as she realized it was Loki, back in Jotun form. Hela passed the baby over and left without a word. Frigga knew something was wrong, besides Loki's unexplained reversion. But one crisis at a time. She unwrapped her son completely and held him to her breast. 

Babies are strange creatures. Their survival hinges on attention from those around them. To achieve this, they use two main methods. The first is to charm whichever person they wish, simply by being visually appealing. That simplest of spells had always worked on Frigga. Loki was highly skilled in that arena, whatever form he took. 

If "I'm cute, so take care of me" doesn't work, or they have no other way to communicate their needs, they must resort to other measures. Incessant crying usually means that an infant will be given what it requires simply to quiet it. Whether they get love or resentful obedience, it matters little. The one thing no child can stand is to be ignored. 

Little wonder, then, that Loki only rested when being held. For now, he simply nursed, taking in nourishment, hydration, and as Frigga was coming to understand, her magic. It didn't take long for him to regain his usual glamour. 

Tucking the sleeping baby into his crib, Frigga next decided to check on her stepdaughter. To her surprise, when she got to the door, it wouldn't open. No amount of jostling or spellwork on Frigga's part would budge it. After several minutes, she gave up that line of inquiry and sent a projection of herself to look. 

Hela and Nora were locked in a small washroom. Hela looked absolutely furious, but after a moment, Frigga realized it was actually fear. The two being much the same thing. 

"Who did you tell?" 

There was an edge to Hela's voice that chilled Frigga to the bone. Absurdly, Nora bared her teeth at the princess. 

"I told everyone I could that you have a Frost Giant bastard for a child. They need to know you're keeping that thing under-" 

The handmaiden was cut off mid-sentence by one of Hela's blades through her chest. Frigga's apparition let out a choking protest, but too late. Hela spun around, eyes burning, but perhaps there was a trace of regret. Then it turned to resignation. 

"Stay in that room. And don't tell Loki about this." 

Hela patted the projection on the shoulder, or tried to. Her hand went straight through and it vanished in a burst of gold. 

Frigga hit the nursery floor hard. Between that and the magic, she lapsed into unconsciousness, surrounded by Thor's wordless protests and Loki's terrified crying.


	5. No

Odin had been on a hunt with some of his men. The idea was that nothing could go too badly wrong within three days. Apparently, even in Asgard, in peacetime, trouble could and would show up anywhere. 

Some sort of alarm from the palace cut through the warm, sunny spring day. A simple spell to alert for a violent death in the palace, but no more details than that. 

He dumped the horses and two dead deer at the stables and ran for the palace, that sense of alarm becoming stronger with each passing second. But the palace gates wouldn't open. 

Several minutes passed, with Odin searching for a way in and absolute silence inside. Screaming would have been less terrifying. 

Then something collapsed, as it were, a magical barrier or just the force of a spell, and the doors opened. He went in alone, and closed the door behind him. No one else seemed to have noticed the problem, so maybe there wasn't one, just some weird fluke of one of Frigga's spells, or Hela's, or even Loki's. The baby had filled the nursery with green-gold butterflies once; it wasn't unthinkable that he would eventually become more adept at such things. 

All too soon, it became clear that something was indeed badly wrong. Two guards at the front gate lay still, and he quickly realized they were dead. Some spell, one could only assume that it was Hela's. Frigga wouldn't do a thing like that. But somewhere in the back of his mind, Odin knew things could only get worse. Tendrils of power he sent around the palace found only more death: servants, guards, a few visitors. No one alive. 

Floor by floor he went, until he touched Hela's mind. She was barely conscious, exhausted from the spell. He recoiled in horror, then thought of Frigga and the boys. 

Please, no... 

Finally some luck. A golden barrier around the nursery. He couldn't tell whether anyone was inside. 

The room in question was two floors up and across the palace's central chamber. Each step felt like an eternity, though he soon broke into a flat-out sprint. 

Every new hallway or room brought more bodies and fresh horror. His most trusted guard, Tyr. A few of the servants, some of them had been around for longer than he could remember, but their names escaped him. A young mother and her three children, a few books in their hands. Likely they had only wanted to visit the palace library. All of them might have been only sleeping, but he knew better. 

Then he reached the nursery door. For a long moment, he stared at it, unable to reach out and open it. 

If the sun stopped shining, it would take several minutes for the last light to reach the planet. Until the seal is broken, that letter could say anything. And as long as he didn't open the door, Frigga, Thor, and the baby couldn't be dead. 

After several long minutes, he laid his hand on the door, and the barrier broke into thousands of golden sparks. The door disintegrated with it, revealing Frigga struggling to get to her feet. Odin sent a quick, silent "Thank you" to whoever was in charge of such things. In the playpen, Thor had gotten bored already and was occupied with a toy soldier. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned on his heel and went to deal with Hela. 

* 

His daughter's two swords were lying unceremoniously on the bloodstained rug. Nearby, one of the maids, with a dagger in her chest. Hela herself sat slumped in a corner, head in her hands. 

As Odin approached, she looked at him with dead eyes. All he could think to say was “What happened?” 

She just shook her head. After a moment: “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.” 

What else could she possibly say? The truth wouldn’t work. As far as Odin knew, Loki was no more to her than some trophy of war -not even her own- or at most a much younger brother and potential rival. Telling him the truth would render the massacre even more pointless. 

She’d tried to simply incapacitate everyone, with the idea of erasing memories later, but somehow, she’d lost control of her magic. Whatever story anyone came up with, someone had to pay for what had happened, and it only made sense for it to be her. 

“What about Frigga and-” 

“Frigga passed out for a few minutes, but she’ll be fine. Thor was up to his usual antics, so I’m not too worried.” 

Finally, Hela opened her eyes and looked at her father, hoping he would continue. After a long minute, it became obvious that he wouldn’t. 

“Did you completely forget about Loki?” 

Odin froze, and Hela broke into crazed laughter. 

“Nice work, ‘All-father’. Father of all, parent, not so good.” 

He gave no reply to that. What was there to say? He’d taken Loki in, unsure of what to do with him, and woken to the news that Frigga had borne a surprise child. Hardly an auspicious way to begin raising a baby, but it could have been worse. But to not even think to check on his youngest child after a crisis... Well, Frigga would just have to manage. For now, he had to deal with Hela himself. 

“What were you trying to do?” 

“No.” 

That surprised him. She shook her head. 

“I can’t explain it. Just kill me already.” 

Centuries later, Odin would wonder if he should have granted her request. Leaving her alive, even locked away, would cost many more lives. But if he’d killed her, if that was even possible, maybe that would have unleashed far more destruction. There was no way of knowing what would happen if the goddess of death died. Ragnarok or some such, most likely. Trying to avoid one’s destiny will cause it to occur. 

Hela hadn’t said anything after that, just knelt before him in silence as he pronounced his judgment: she would remain in Helheim until the youngest of her victims, the unborn child of one of the servants, would have died if granted the usual span of years. It had seemed unlikely that she would live that long. 

Odin offered to let her say goodbye to Frigga and the boys, but she’d declined. No explanation given, but Odin figured she wanted them to remember her as she’d once been, not the way she had ultimately become: troubled and broken by her own actions. Maybe that was better. 

They rode out to the Bifrost together. Hela was unrestrained; he doubted she would try to escape. The light had gone out of her eyes, unsavory as it had been. Some part of him, the part of him that rejoiced in battle, that revelled in the worship directed at them by the Midgardians, was relieved at the day’s events. 

No longer did he have to worry about Hela turning on him during a battle, or starting a new one behind his back. He had a lot more power now, with his biggest potential rival locked safely away. In a way, sacrificing a few lives in the palace bought peace for everyone. Do not mourn, but rejoice, for those who have died the glorious death. 

The opening of the Bifrost could be seen from all of Asgard. In a window, he could see a silhouette watching Hela being spirited away. Frigga, perhaps with one baby or another or both in her arms, or on her hip. She truly was a wonderful woman. 

When it was done, Heimdall confirmed that Hela was safely restrained. She would live, as much as she ever had, collecting the souls of the ill-lived dead. Little other purpose for one so troubled. 

The sun was setting in a ball of golden fire (was there any other color on Asgard?) by the time he got back to the palace. He explained things to Frigga in a few short sentences. She was obviously devastated, but he knew she would recover. She'd been through worse. 

Most of their people would soon forget Hela's existence, even if they knew of her true identity, which few enough of them did. They would follow their King, their Queen, and eventually, their golden Prince. The shadowy one was for Frigga. All would be well. 

First, though, he would have to get rid of the bodies.


	6. Learn

I’m back, people! For a little background, I have pictured Thor and Loki as the less than a year apart. (Figuring out the relative ages of two different species on two different planets gives me a headache, so I’ll just give the human equivalents). In this chapter, they are about one, about four, and then about nine. 

******** 

Frigga never did ask what Odin had done with his daughter. A quick spell confirmed her location, and that she was still alive. That was honestly as much as she cared to know. 

The rest of Asgard didn’t ask for details. The few bereaved relatives were told that their loved ones had died in battle, which seemed to be enough. Asgard as a whole was surprisingly resilient. 

To her surprise and joy, Eir had been out of the palace at the time, attending another difficult birth. Soon enough, they had found more workers, with many of the common folk eager for the honor, for good pay, for free housing and food. They asked no questions. It was almost as if no one could even remember Hela, which perhaps they couldn’t. 

Loki was almost certainly too young to remember more than someone he’d liked, who was now gone. Thor often went looking for her, or so she assumed. He couldn’t really speak yet, but he sometimes made angry babbles when whichever person came to collect him evidently wasn’t the correct one. Soon enough, though, he seemed to forget, and only wanted to be held by his mother, or to poke at his baby brother. The two of them were becoming quite close. 

Only when her own memories of Hela began to fade, and when a quick trip to the throne room confirmed that the mosaics of her had been covered over, did Frigga realize she’d been charmed along with the rest of Asgard. She quickly wrote down all that she could remember of her stepdaughter and hid the record in a pocket dimension. 

Not long after that, the memories vanished completely. 

* 

The first time Frigga realized her husband was hiding something, she’d had bigger things on her mind. 

Centuries after their unorthodox births, the boys were growing like weeds. Educating them was proving interesting, to put it politely. Loki kept picking up one or another of her books. She’d just assumed he liked the pictures, or perhaps the feel or the smell of the paper itself. 

Then she walked into a room full of her favorite pink roses, with Loki and a spellbook happily in the middle of it all. Only then did she realize her baby had taught himself to read without anyone noticing. 

By sharp contrast, Thor either wouldn’t or couldn’t learn the runes, until Frigga dismissed the tutors, sat him on her lap, and guided his hands to each word: "The blue soldier swings his sword. The green soldier shoots an arrow." 

She applied the same concept to teaching them art. Loki sat down with paper and colored pencils, while Thor was given modeling clay. To no surprise on her part, Thor made soldiers. No faces, just weapons. Loki hunched over his paper, probably wanting to surprise her when he was finished. 

That was another difference between them. Thor sought attention from everyone, but was happy enough without it. Loki only seemed to care about attention from Frigga, and less commonly, Thor and Odin. If he didn't get it, though, he was likely to make them pay attention. At least, as he grew, he'd transitioned from screaming to various more sophisticated methods. 

Hence the magic. But no words from him yet, for whatever reason. Frigga never could figure out whether it was a difference in species, or that Loki was undersized and living on the wrong planet, or simply the fact that, at the end of the day, Thor was Thor and Loki was Loki. Her two wonderful children. 

While the two of them were busy with their artwork, Odin put in an appearance to check on them. 

"Hello, my love." 

He kissed Frigga on both cheeks before turning to the boys. Thor held up a couple of clay lumps that looked like soldiers if one were being kind. 

"Fight!" 

The figures smacked at each other a few times until one "sword" got stuck to the other. Undeterred, Thor smashed them together and began rebuilding. 

Loki held up his picture, and Frigga was amazed at the detail. A young woman, black hair past her shoulders, much like Loki's own. Dressed all in black and green and gold. She looked familiar somehow, like something out of a dream. 

All at once, Odin snatched away the picture, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the fireplace before Frigga could stop him. Loki protested the only way he knew, with wordless howls. 

Odin left the room with a parting shot: "Just play with soldiers or something like a normal kid. And learn how to talk!" 

Stunned at her husband's ferocity, Frigga quickly moved to comfort her son. Loki was confused and crying, eyes gone bloodshot, or else he was losing control of the glamour spell he was unaware he cast. She laid her hands on his cheeks, not minding the tears. After long minutes of Loki gasping for air and Thor watching them awkwardly, he finally pulled away, grabbing some of Thor's clay and smashing it into a ball. 

Satisfied that her sons would be well enough alone for a few minutes, Frigga went to have a talk with her dear husband. 

******** 

"What in Hel was that about?" 

Odin hadn't actually heard anyone come in, but with Frigga, that wasn't unusual. In fact, he was fairly certain that she hadn't actually entered his private office, just sent a projection. 

The two of them glared daggers at each other across a desk littered with missives from who knows where. There was nothing he could say that would make sense to Loki, but Frigga was perhaps another matter. 

"That picture he drew, it was some demon. I recognize her, but it escapes me where exactly I may have seen her." 

The lie was so thick he could taste it. But there was little else he could do. Everyone was better off not knowing the truth. At least Frigga didn't seem to remember. The pain of what Hela had done was bad enough for him. It would have crushed her. 

Or so he told himself. 

******** 

Loki eventually figured out the whole talking thing, starting with "Dor" and "Mumma". Never though, the fact that he simply couldn't measure up to Thor, at least as Odin saw it. 

Today, they were learning archery, and their father was nowhere to be found. Frigga assumed he would conveniently find time to contratulate Thor on grazing the edge of the target. Loki's aim was usually truer, but the arrows simply fell short. Strength would come in time, one would hope. 

At the moment, though, Loki had fired three arrows and then sat down, refusing to try any more. A few words from the instructor were completely ineffective at rousing him, so Frigga waved the man away and tended to her child herself. She'd thought he was simply discouraged, but when she put her hand on his face, it felt warm. 

"Hey, sweetie." He didn't respond. "Why don't we go inside?" STill no reaction, so she lifted him to his feet, intending to guide him to his room. 

Halfway there, Loki collapsed in her arms. Alarmed, she sent a nearby maid to alert Eir and carried Loki to the healing room. Laying him on the bed, she realized he was barely breathing. 

Healers rushed in, shooing her away with questions of "What's wrong?", "What happened?", and so on. There were no answers she could give. 

If the day had been unusually warm, perhaps it could have been the heat, but Loki had managed with far worse. Maybe some sort of infection, but there was no way to know quickly enough, at least, not without everyone knowing Loki's secret. Frigga caught Eir's eye and the two of them ducked into a corner. 

"Anything I need to know?" 

Frigga shook her head. "Nothing comes to mind. No obvious injuries, no one around him was sick... Did you manage to learn more about- you know, him?" 

Eir shrugged. "Anatomy is nearly identical, but that doesn't seem to be the problem. Some sort of infection seems most likely, but I don't really know how he'd react. I can draw some blood to check." 

With all the healers rushing about, it occurred to Frigga to notify Odin and Thor of the situation. Almost as soon as she thought that, Thor burst into the room, all out of breath. He must have realized why Loki had disappeared so suddenly. 

"What's wrong?" 

She couldn't answer, just tried to simplify what she did know. 

"Loki is sick, so they're taking care of him. But we need to stay out of their way." 

"Where's Papa?" 

Good question. 

******** 

When he later tried to recall the events of that day, Odin had no idea who he'd been meeting with. It was as if a door slammed shut in his mind, severing the before from the after. 

Frigga's glowing projection materialized in the corner, anxiety plastered on her face. He made some excuse, ducked out of the room, and quickly made his way to the healing rooms. To his surprise, Frigga and Thor were unharmed, arms around each other. Their younger son floated motionlessly in a golden bubble, multiple healers bustling about. Belatedly, Odin realized he hadn't even considered Loki would be the patient. 

"What's wrong?" 

No one answered. After several minutes, Loki himself broke the silence with a strangled cry. His entire body started to shake violently, throwing off the golden magic that couldn't heal him, only try to keep him alive long enough for him to recover. It wouldn't work; he knew that already, somehow. 

Once Loki stabilized, and the healers wrapped their magic around him again, Odin managed to coax Frigga and Thor off to bed, promising to wake them if anything changed. Eventually, most of the healers did likewise, heading for their rooms or perhaps the mess hall. 

Then it was just him and Eir. The healer looked exhausted and short on ideas. "I don't-" she cleared her throat and continued. "I don't think we can fix this. it's probably some sort of infection that the rest of us are immune to. We carry all kinds of things without any symptoms, but then someone fundamentally different shows up, and we have no idea how to treat it. "Maybe someone from Jotunheim would, but..." 

It was worth a shot. Loki would have little chance otherwise. 

******** 

Was this what it had felt like to bring Loki to Asgard in the first place? Odin couldn't remember that part, just finding an abandoned newborn and later giving him to Frigga. That was strange, when he thought about it, but such it was. 

It must have been a lot like this: the dying child in a blanket in his arms, the ground a blur beneath his horse's hooves, hoping he could get to the Bifrost site quickly, get to Jotunheim, find a healer, convince them to help... 

By the time he reached the observatory, he knew it was too late. Loki was back in Jotun form, having no strength left for magic. Moments later, he realized the child had stopped breathing. No pulse, either. 

What am I going to tell Frigga?


	7. Massacre

This chapter is dedicated to LodestarJumper, who recently reviewed *every* chapter. 

* 

Another grey day. What else was new? Her prison planet rarely saw the sun, or rain. 

Hela could hardly tell whether it was night or day. How long had she been locked away like this? Nothing to do but sit there and stew, lost in thought. She couldn't even die, despite repeated attempts. The power that she still drew from Asgard simply refused to let her go. Perhaps it needed her as much as she needed it. Whatever the reason, she was caged like an animal for the foreseeable future. Nothing to do, no one to talk to. 

Out of nowhere, the Bifrost materialized. 

For a moment, she had a wild hope that her punishment was over, that she could go home. Then she realized that Odin had arrived, with a bundle in his arms that she hoped was only an unconscious Loki, rather than a dead one. But that hope was soon dashed, also. He was too still, and Odin's face too grim. He laid Loki on the dead ground and stepped back. 

Hela dropped to her knees near her brother, laying a hand on his forehead. He'd gone blue and cold. 

"What happened?" 

Her voice sounded strange and horribly loud after centuries of silence. Odin just shrugged. 

"He got sick. The healers couldn't help him. I thought maybe..." 

She grasped his meaning at once. She did have the ability to raise the dead, after a fashion, but whether she could bring back his mind, it was impossible to say. She never did figure out if the first resurrection had brought back his infant personality or mixed it with her own. Most likely a little of both. What effect reviving Loki again would have on his mind as it had been -How long has it been? Who is he now?- she could only guess. 

But Odin most likely still had no idea of her role in that part of the story. “Heimdall said you might be able to help him.” 

Yeah, I’ll bet he did. “Did he say anything else?” 

"No." 

Hela wasn't sure whether to believe him. A plan started to form in the back of her head. Get Odin to leave, revive whatever version of Loki she could, have a brother, at least for a while, maybe prove herself fit to return to Asgard -I'll be good, I promise I will... 

"How's Frigga managing?" Does she actually care about him, does she miss me... 

"She doesn't know yet. If he can come back, why make her worry, and if he can't, she doesn't need to remember-" Odin broke off. Too late. 

"Did you make her forget me?" Hela let out a harsh laugh. "You really are the worst, father.” 

"Can you help him?" 

Classic Odin. Just talk over any criticism. "I wouldn't do it for you." 

Did she still have the ability? Way back in her head, the power still existed. No way to know if it would work without trying it. 

"I don't think I can. I'm sorry." 

* 

It had been a gamble, Hela knew that. If Odin had taken Loki's body back to Asgard, that would have been that. She could only guess that a dead body would have been an unnecessary complication in his reprise of erasing one of his children. 

Not that she was all that concerned with the "why". Unwittingly, her father had given her exactly what she wanted: her baby brother as a companion, if she could only revive him. 

She'd carried his limp, blue body into the cave that was the closest she could get to a home. So much like the day she'd found a dead baby abandoned in a temple. There were many regrets, but he wasn't one of them. Even the goddess of death had a soul. 

It was years since she'd touched the Eternal Flame, or even Asgard, but the power remained in her when she reached for it. Goddess of death, they called her. For causing death, or for reversing it? Or avoiding it entirely, willingly or otherwise. 

One hand on Loki's forehead, the other on his chest, she drew on every bit of power she could dredge up. Her spirits, such as they were, were lifted somewhat when a black cloud began pouring out of his nose and mouth. An infection, or some sort of poison, or curse, she couldn't say. But soon enough, it was gone, and Loki gasped underneath her hands. 

"Hey there." 

Green eyes fluttered open. She couldn't help smiling. Gradually, Loki's skin returned to its usual Aesir appearance. 

"Can you hear me?" 

"No." 

For some reason, she was inordinately proud. 

"Do you know who I am?" 

He swallowed. "Papa doesn't want me to." 

* 

It had taken Odin quite some time to figure out that time simply did not exist on Helheim. Hela hadn't aged a day since he'd sent her away. Perhaps she would live forever if she stayed there. 

Stranger still, he hadn't even gotten back from the Bifrost before he realized his daughter had either lied or changed her mind. Loki was indeed alive again, with Hela teaching him a few tricks. 

He did briefly consider leaving them together. If pressed for a reason why he didn't, he could have come up with a few: that Loki was an innocent child and shouldn't be left there, that he was a weapon to be taken from Hela, whether Odin used him or not, or that Frigga and Thor would miss him and erasing more memories would take too much effort. 

In reality, he didn't think Hela should have a friend to ease the deserved harshness of her punishment. Only centuries later, when Loki was again gone, this time by his own actions, did he realize that any desire to simply have the child he considered a son with him never played a factor. For all he claimed to care about his youngest, and perhaps he did care, there was no sense of great loss when he was gone. Mostly he was just angry about Hela. Liar, traitor, murderer. 

There was a simple solution. Kill Hela, bring Loki back, continue pretending he never had a daughter. Yes, that would work. But he couldn't do that himself. 

* 

The day Odin came to ask the Valkyries for help was one Brunnhilde would live to regret. 

They'd been engaged in a mock battle, blue armor and practice weapons versus red. Nothing they hadn't done many times before, but this skirmish would be their last. Unbeknownst to any of them. 

Opposite Brunnhilde, command of the red faction had fallen to Joyana. The relatively new arrival had caught Brunnhilde's eye, both as a skilled warrior and as something else, in a way she couldn't name. Certainly, the golden-haired soldier was a worthy opponent. 

They'd caught each other's blades in mid-air at the exact moment the Bifrost touched down. Seconds later, Odin himself arrived and broke the spell. 

He told a strange and questionable story, of an estranged daughter, Hela, locked away for murder, who had escaped and stolen Odin's younger son. 

Their mission was to retrieve him, killing Hela if they were able. Nothing they couldn't handle. 

Or so they thought. 

* 

Not much grew in Hela's strange prison, but she'd scrounged enough that she and Loki could share a meal. A few greens and some sort of shellfish. It was good to have a friend to eat with. 

Loki had just fallen asleep when the sound caught her attention: that weird concussive sound she remembered from her childhood. Odin had taken her to visit the Valkyrie training camp. Maybe he'd been hoping she would decide to join them, saving him the trouble of figuring out what to do with her. Some part of her still hoped that her father had thought she would enjoy it, which she certainly had, but Odin never did anything purely for anyone's enjoyment. She had actually considered joining them, climbing on a pegasus and heading off to war in parts unknown. 

In the end, the freedom she had enjoyed as Asgard's crown princess proved too great of a sacrifice. She'd had plenty of time for second thoughts. Knowing her, of course, she probably would have screwed that up, too. But now they were here, too, and it couldn't be good. 

The concussive flapping sound stopped, and there was the sound of hoofbeats, then footsteps. Hela gently ruffled Loki's long dark hair, so much like her own, before heading out to deal with her "guests". 

Brunnhilde, whom she'd met long ago, seemed to be in charge. Maybe she could be reasoned with. Then again, the dark warrior already had her sword drawn. 

"Hela, where is the child?" 

"Safe. Safer here than with the All-father." 

Brunnhilde didn't react. Most likely, she didn't believe Hela, which was understandable. What was not understandable was the entire Valkyrie army drawing their swords or bows or whatever else and charging at her. They had numbers, she could give them that, but she had power, and a lot of anger. Odin couldn't protect Loki on Asgard, and now he was using an entire army to get him back? No sign of Odin himself, just the Valkyries to do his dirty work. 

Figures. 

A little overkill, she thought, with maybe three dozen of them, on horseback, against her. Then again... 

A surge of power into the ground, and the swords she'd crafted for herself multiplied into dozens. Most of them wouldn't actually wound, would in fact disintegrate if touched, but that wasn't the plan anyway. Spooked by the flying metal, pegasus after pegasus either landed in a panic, or threw its rider, or simply fled entirely. One of the physical swords hit a Valkyrie in the chest, and there was still enough left of her soul to regret that, but not much. They were trying to kill her. 

By then, only a few of them remained, with Brunnhilde lifting her sword and swinging it at Hela. Hela fell back and launched her remaining sword at the Valkyrie leader, intending to end the fight with one blow. 

Out of nowhere, a blonde swordswoman lept in front of Brunnhilde, the sword striking her in the back and killing her instantly. Brunnhilde howled in anguish; evidently her savior had been someone special. Not her sister; they looked nothing alike. Close friend, perhaps, or shield-sister, or even a lover? Impossible to say. 

Brunnhilde made as if to charge at Hela, then seemed to think better of it. Around her, three remaining Valkyries were breaking rank, as it were, turning and running, with one of the braver ones trying to carry away a fallen comrade. After a moment, Brunnhilde ran after them. Crisis averted, at least for the moment. 

Out of breath and emotionally drained, Hela decided to check on her brother. 

* 

The cave was empty, but the tracks of Loki's magic could still be felt. He must have seen the skirmish and tried to run away. Unsurprising, given the twenty or so dead Valkyries, either from hitting the ground, or trampled by their own steeds, or for two of them, shot by their comrade's arrows. Fewer dead horses, but two remained that were badly hurt. Hela quickly cut their throats and left in search of Loki. 

The child was wandering along a dry streambed, constantly stumbling over rocks. At the sound of her footsteps, he spun around and pulled out a dagger. That surprised her -he'd been unarmed last she saw- until she realized he'd simply taken one of hers. Her baby brother, after all. She was so proud. 

"Loki," she held out her hands, "you don't need to worry. I'm not going to hurt you. Can you put the knife away?" 

"Why did you kill them?" 

Fair question. She swallowed hard before replying. 

"They were trying to kill me. So- I stopped them. But a lot of them left to go back home." She tried to put her arms around him, but he shied away. 

"I want to go home." 

Hela blinked, surprised. Then again, it made sense. Home was his parents, his brother, his belongings, maybe his friends. Here, there was only death, and a sister he couldn't remember. But it didn't matter all that much. 

"I can't take you back to Asgard, Loki. But come with me, and we can get you back to bed, maybe some food first..." 

Eventually, Loki put the knife away, and Hela lifted him into her arms, carrying him back to her cave. He was sound asleep before she even got him halfway there. 

Laying him on what passed for his bed, she realized she needed to get rid of the bodies. Most of them were piled together already; it didn't take long to collect the rest and get a fire going. All that was left of most of the Valkyrie army rose in ashes on the wind. A proper warrior's funeral, much like they would have been given anywhere else. 

That thought was of little comfort. The slaughter had been pointless, even for Hela. Even Loki couldn't cheer her up; she was keeping him prisoner as much as Odin was keeping her. Worse, actually, since Loki had done nothing wrong. Maybe Heimdall would bring him back, if she wasn't around, but there was no way to know unless she simply let Loki wander away, which was too dangerous. She wasn't entirely alone in her exile. Creatures she couldn't identify had needed to be "convinced" to leave her alone. Loki wouldn't stand a chance on his own. 

Hours later, it occurred to Hela that the surviving Valkyries had gotten out somehow. Leaving a sleeping Loki with a dagger and some food, she set off after them, hoping they'd followed a clear path. 

Soon enough, in the side of a mountain, there appeared a strange glow. Some sort of pathway, perhaps, but to where. Preferably to Asgard, but there were likely multiple branches, and to get lost would likely prove fatal. It was anyone's guess what had happened to the surviving Valkyries. They could be anywhere, literally anywhere in the Nine Realms or outside of them. 

Loki couldn't stay here. What had she been thinking? She should have brought him back to life and sent him safely home with Odin. This was no place for an innocent child. He belonged with Frigga, and Thor... 

A wave of homesickness swept over her. Asgard was her home. She should be fighting one battle after another, bringing justice to the Nine Realms, finding more realms, bringing them into the fold, so to speak. Was that truly so bad? 

Ambition is just an emotion. Like any other, the only problem is when it gets too strong. Where exactly that line is drawn, is something of a judgment call. And evidently, her father drew that line a bit earlier than she did. 

Hela knew full well her imprisonment was not solely because of the palace massacre. That was only the tipping point, the justification, the reason she hadn't argued. Objectively, she'd deserved punishment. But this, this was a way of getting rid of a rival. The fact that said rival was his own daughter was probably the only reason she was still alive. 

And yet, the Valkyries had been trying to kill her. It seemed Odin had all the parenting fulfillment he needed from Thor. They hadn't even asked for Loki back, or how he was, just demanded to know where he was and attacked her for answering. Maybe Hela should have just handed him over. There was no way of knowing if that would have made a difference or not. 

After a long time, she walked slowly back to her cave, where Loki sat munching on a boiled crab. Hela sank to the ground next to him and put her arm around his shoulders. If this was the last time they were together, the last time she touched another person, she wanted to make the most of it. 

Eventually, something shifted and she let go, taking his hand instead. 

"Come with me. I think I found a way home." 

* 

The glowing lights spoke to Loki in a way he never could explain. The only time anything like that had happened before was in the Vault, when Odin was showing them the Casket. No words exchanged, just the impression. From the Casket, it had been power, the kind of power that sent chills through him. It made him feel alive. 

This time was a little different. The portal beckoned to him, offering him what he wanted most: a way home. At the strange woman's urging, he put out his hand and touched it. The light field offered no resistance as he touched it, but it felt warm. It felt like home. 

After one last glance at his nameless guardian, he walked in on high alert. Anything could be waiting here, to ambush him or offer a way home. It would be so easy to get lost. 

Then he thought of Mother. 

The light ahead of him to the left shone gold among the swirling silver. He would follow that one. 

Traversing the passage seemed to take forever, but he never grew tired, or hungry. That was interesting. When he looked around, there were unfamiliar stars, worlds he couldn't name, worlds he could, and the sense that there were far more paths linking all of them. But he only wanted one. 

After an eternity, or just a moment, he was back in the Vault. 

By pure luck, Odin came across him before anyone else. There were questions, of course, as to his miraculous recovery, and his return without using the Bifrost, but he avoided giving any answers. When pressed, he said he couldn’t remember anything between the archery range and the Vault. If he didn’t think too hard, he could almost convince even himself that the mysterious woman who looked so much like him, the battle with the Valkyries, and the paths between worlds were all just figments of his imagination, or else fever dreams. 

That was his first permanent lie.


	8. Forgive

So I’ve worked in a few theories about the MCU as a whole. And I threw in a little moment inspired by Bird Box. Let me know if you recognize it. 

* 

Centuries passed before Hela saw another living person. 

If "living" was the proper word. The blue being calling herself Nebula contained more machinery than living body. 

Irregular footsteps drew her away from her common pastime of observing the fluctuations of the portal Loki had traversed long ago. She couldn't sense her brother anymore, these last few months. But she would know if he was dead, right? 

Apparently not. 

A spaceship of a kind she hadn't seen before had landed in a rubble field without her noticing. In front of it stood Nebula, some sort of weapon in her hand. Nothing Hela could recognize. Clearly wherever her guest had come from, it wasn't in the Nine Realms. 

Weapons drawn but not aimed, the two of them regarded each other for a long moment. Then Hela noticed the limp form Nebula had dragged out of her ship. Loki, all grown up, back in Jotun form. 

Dead again. Why her brother couldn't manage to stay alive, Hela didn't bother to ask. There were bigger questions. 

"Who are you?" 

"My name is Nebula, daughter of Thanos. My father sent me to find out if you could repair this one." 

Repair. This one. How impersonal. Then again, Nebula's largely mechanical body doubtless required repair, rather than healing. Perhaps she was simply unused to considering her own identity. 

"What's wrong with him?" 

Nebula shrugged. "He fell out of the sky a couple of days back. Dead on impact, but my father checked his memories and found this place. Can you fix him?" 

Hela considered for a moment whether she should. Loki's soul hadn't found its way to her kingdom, as it were, so he was probably in Valhalla. Bringing him back could jeopardize that, and any true Asgardian wouldn't want it. But he's no true Asgardian, that voice in the back of her head reminded her. 

"Perhaps I can. Why should I?" 

"My father will find the Infinity Stones sooner or later, one way or another. He'll be the most powerful being in the universe. You would be well served if he owes you a favor." 

Skeptical, Hela lunged at Nebula and knocked her to the ground, slamming a hand to her forehead. Touching the mind of a cyborg -a word she quickly learned- functioned much the same way as doing that sort of thing with Loki. The sensation, however, was vastly different. 

instead of experiencing the memories as her subject had, she took on the role of a bystander, observing every moment. A planet called Sakaar. A man called Grandmaster, who seemed immortal. He'd found a yellow stone and crafted a scepter to hold it. Wielding it, he took command of an entire planet. 

Then a pair of sisters, green and blue, arrived and "retrieved" the scepter. Not without difficulty, of course. An encounter with a "melt stick" claimed Nebula's last remaining organic limb, her left leg. Her green sister had to carry her to their pirated spaceship. 

Then it shifted. Nebula and her nameless sister stood on a barren rock with four other beings. Some sort of plan, to have Loki lead an attack on a planet that Hela knew as Midgard. Maybe they couldn't trust their prisoner, as it were, but they needed to test the waters, so to speak. Better to not risk one of their own. Send in the reject Asgardian, just to see what the defenses are like. The ultimate goal was to collect all six infinity stones, two of which were on Midgard, and wipe out half the universe. 

Shocked, Hela released Nebula and fell backward, gasping for air. "Why would I help you and your 'father' destroy the universe? Even for me, that's too much... why are you helping him, anyway? What is wrong with you?" 

"Only half the universe. He'll do it either way; I might as well be in the half that lives." 

"Ah, yes, the old inevitability line of reasoning." So arrogant, to think one can see the future, or is it selling oneself short, that is to say, incapable of finding a better solution? 

"You don't know how powerful he is- he'll do it." This Nebula obviously believed. 

Hela wasn't convinced. There were, perhaps, unstoppable moments in history; Ragnarok, the destruction of Asgard, had to be completed to allowt he cycle to repeat. But half of the universe? The entire universe? How could any one being have that much power? 

And yet, if this "Thanos" did have the ability to do that sort of thing, wouldn't he make a keen ally? 

"Forgive me," she muttered, not knowing whom she addressed. "Okay, I'll do it." 

* 

Frigga fell to the floor, gasping. 

"He's alive!" 

Then she looked around the empty room. Figures. She finally found her child, and no one was around for her to tell. Thor was off hunting with his friends or whatever it was this time. They'd grown apart since Loki's "death". She would tell him when he got back. 

Odin was... good question, actually. Frigga sent a projection to look. Just one of the many ways she and Loki might as well have been mother and son in the flesh. 

Another was the pocket dimension she'd scoured for clues after Loki disappeared into the Void. She'd made an interesting discovery, to say the least, but nothing that would help find her lost child. 

For some reason, she'd kept that revelation to herself. A little extra dagger hidden away for emergencies. At least, emergencies involving her dear husband. 

* 

Odin had been conversing with Heimdall at the destroyed Bifrost when Frigga put in her appearance. After a minute or two, Odin excused himself from the gatekeeper and greeted her with a quick nod. 

"Loki is alive." 

That simple statement drew looks of surprise from both Odin and Heimdall. The latter spoke first. 

"My queen, I still cannot see him. Are you certain-" 

"Yes, I'm certain. I know my own child. He's not in one of the Nine Realms. He's on some dark, empty rock. I could only see him for a moment, but he's alive." 

"Frigga..." 

Odin tried to lay a hand on his wife's shoulder and passed straight through it. The apparition vanished in a shower of golden sparkles. One of these centuries, he was going to start anticipating things like that. Or such was a lie he told himself, just like the one that said he was glad Loki wasn't dead after all. 

* 

The day had been warm, but a light breeze took the edge off of that. Just the five of them in Frigga's garden, surrounded by pink roses. 

It had been Frigga's suggestion, to have a ceremony to formalize Loki joining their family. Their youngest, sporting a dusting of black hair, struggled against Hela's grasp to look at all the pretty flowers. Eventually, Frigga handed him a small blossom and he grabbed it, laughing in the way babies do. 

Then it was time. Frigga went first, passing off a sleepy Thor to Odin as she collected Loki from Hela. 

"Loki, my love, I promise to love you, to care for you, to protect you, and to nurture you, today and for all days to come. I swear this by all that I hold dear." She planted a kiss on the child's forehead, sealing her vow. 

Odin followed, swapping children with his wife. "Hey, little guy." Loki granted his adoptive father an adoring smile. "I promise to protect you, Loki, to teach you, to love you as my own. Finding you and bringing you home was one of the best things I ever did." 

Behind him, Hela unsuccessfully stifled a smirk. Fortunately, her father still had his gaze fixed on his new son. He kissed the baby and handed him off to Hela. 

"Hello, little brother. You are absolutely adorable." Here, she let her tough, emotionless persona slide, just for a moment. "I promise to protect you from anything the Nine Realms or anywhere else can throw at us. I love you, and I mean that every day for the rest of my life." 

To her surprise, it wasn't awkward to say, and truly mean it, or to seal her promise with a kiss on his cheek before holding him out to Thor. The toddler let out some meaningless babble and poked Loki on the chin. Instantly, the baby lashed out and jabbed his brother in the ribs with the flower stem. This elicited a howl of outrage from the older child and affectionate chuckles from both Frigga and Hela. 

Promises spoken, the family went back to their various tasks. But the words they'd spoken remained. 

* 

The spel required to send Thor back to Midgard had required significant strength from both Odin and Frigga. Spirits alternately lifted and crushed by updates from Heimdall, the two of them were left to recover in their private chambers. They spoke of little or nothing, until the news came that the group calling itself the Avengers had triumphed over the bizarre invasion. All that was left of the attacking force was Loki, who would be returning to Asgard as Thor's prisoner. 

Which meant that they had to reach some sort of decision on what to do with him. Hence the current heated discussion. 

"He's our son. He's been brutalized repeatedly, including by you. After all he's been through, you can't possibly think that-" 

"After what he's been through, death would be a mercy. It spares him from living with what's happened, it's safer for everyone else-" 

"Just stop. We're not going to do that." 

The two of them glared daggers at each other for several moments. Then Frigga broke the silence with a sorrowful change of subject. 

"Do you remember that day in the garden? When you promised to love him like your own son?" 

"I do remember, and I do love him. But I have to be just." 

"I remember that day well. It was so beautiful. All five of us, together and happy." 

Some part of Frigga treasured the look on her husband's face as he realized she'd found a way to break his spell. If the situation weren't deadly serious, she might have laughed. As it was, she continued. 

"You let her live, and found a way to move forward. If you honestly meant what you promised, you would do the same for Loki." Odin had the good sense to look ashamed, but Frigga wasn't sure whether she believed him. 

"If you truly meant that, I wouldn't have had to remind you."


	9. Convergence

One more chapter after this, people! I am also considering a sequel. Let me know what you think. 

X 

This time, Hela knew. 

Of the many souls who found their way to her home, few earned a second look. Occasionally, she would see one on its way to Valhalla, most recently Frigga. All-Mother and step-daughter could not touch one another, or even speak, but they caught each other's eyes and exchanged a long, solemn look. 

Then she was gone, and Hela was alone again. If the variety of souls heading in various directions was anything to go by, there had been something of a battle. It could be worse. And other lies we tell ourselves. Death is death. You're never truly ready, whatever anyone says. 

Worlds away, Loki would tell his brother exactly that. Thor assumed he was referring to their mortal companion. Who would have thought she would outlive not only the Trickster, twice, but Asgard itself? 

Hela saw them, this time, the portal growing and becoming easier to traverse. The only explanation Hela could think of was an approaching Convergence, but it couldn't be time for that yet. Right? Then again, time was so strange here. Loki was grown, largely, and she herself hadn't aged much. Perhaps she couldn't. Death was out of her reach, anyway. 

But maybe she could escape. 

One hand in front of her, Hela entered the portal, hoping to find Asgard. Her step-mother's death had left a stain on the light from the Realm Eternal. Death served as a guide for the goddess of death. 

Her hand slammed into a barrier and bounced back with a painful jolt. 

X 

Bright gold sunlight streamed through the open windows. 

Someone had cleaned up all traces of Frigga's blood, but the red stains were burned like fire into Odin's mind. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Thor should be ruling, while he and Frigga enjoyed their sunset years in peace. Grimly, he realized that the only child who hadn't disobeyed him today was Hela. Not whom he'd have guessed. 

As if the thought had summoned her, a green window appeared in midair. Through it he could see his daughter, hand outstretched. She hadn't changed much since the incident with Loki and the Valkyries. 

"Hello, Father." 

The slight emphasis told him exactly how much that title was worth: not a whole lot. 

"Daughter." Perhaps equally meaningless. "I take it you're not here for Frigga." 

She laughed, a harsh grating sound. "Hardly. She was one of the good ones. Let me out." 

"I can't." 

"It wasn't supposed to be forever. Let me out. You're doing a poor job of protecting Asgard. You couldn't even protect your wife. And where, pray tell, are my brothers?" 

"They left. Without permission, of course. Not that I could give it. And I can't let you out. Not 'won't', 'can't'. I bound you there again after what happened with the Valkyries." 

"They attacked me. I defended myself. That was all. What exactly did you tell them?" 

A fair question. That had been a mistake on his part, sending in the Valkyries. Brunnhilde had been something of a loose cannon. But it was far too late for regrets. 

"It doesn't matter. I can't undo it. You will not set foot in Asgard while I live and that will not change." 

Hela's face hardened. Without another word, she let go of the barrier. The window collapsed in on itself and disappeared. Odin was left alone again, wondering where in Hel he'd started to go wrong. Millennia ago, must have been. 

X 

Frustrated, Hela stormed out of the portal. Not for the first time, she wished for Thor's unexplained ability to conjure up a thunderstorm. It would have been nice for the weather to match her mood. As it was, the day, as ever, lacked the energy to care about her latest failure. 

Maybe Odin was lying. She'd never been the best at telling that sort of thing. Little did that matter. Her father wouldn't live much longer. That, she could tell. Even the Aesir did not live forever, and Hela was familiar enough with death to sense its approach. So perhaps all she needed was a little more patience. Which was of course something out of which she'd run a few centuries back. 

Abandoning for the moment a potential escape, she became aware of another cluster of deaths. Dark Elves again, just a handful. No sign of whoever killed them, so it wasn't much of a battle. Wordlessly, she beckoned them in to their personal afterlife. What specific form it would take, she never knew, only that it depended on the individual. Punishment fits crime. But that was up to a power higher than her own. The elves reluctantly joined their brethren in what looked to her like another, larger cave. 

Then Hela was alone again. 

Trudging angrily back to her own cave, she gradually became aware of her long, tangled hair lifting on end. It touched some memory of Asgard, specifically of Thor. Like any self-respecting toddler, he'd refused to eat dinner and instead run outside. Like any mother, Frigga had run after him. Like any older sibling, Hela had grabbed Loki to go and watch. 

Frigga had chased her child around the garden for several minutes, with Hela pretending not to laugh, and Loki grabbing at Hela's weirdly levitating hair. Storm clouds gathered overhead, adding to the spectacle. That was unusual for Asgard, but not unheard of. Eventually, Frigga finally laid hands on her son, carrying him a few steps toward the door. Out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning slammed into Frigga, knocking her to the ground and setting Thor loose again. No one ran after him a second time. 

Hela hadn't seen or heard from Thor since the last, horrible day at the palace. But the tension in the air was the same. 

Reacting by instinct, Hela ducked behind a boulder. Lightning struck and ignited the dead tree across the valley that she'd never liked in the first place. Thor wasn't here, but maybe a storm he'd summoned had crossed between worlds. Yep, definitely a Convergence. Then the storm disappeared as quickly as it had formed. 

Emerging from her makeshift shelter, Hela noticed one more lost soul. 

Loki. 

Guilt shot through her. Her brother's previous deaths hadn't led him to Helheim. Whatever had happened since the last time must have been terrible enough to push him over the edge. 

"Hey, Loki." 

She tried to put her hand on his shoulder, but it went straight through him. Only then did it occur to Hela that she'd never actually tried to make physical contact with a dead soul, or even talk to them. 

"Who are you?" 

Loki's voice was quiet, dark, monotone. So he could talk, at least to her. Maybe it was just how many times their minds had touched. 

"I'm a friend. I can help you." 

"Last time wasn't a help. You should have just let me go." 

"Maybe. But I can give you another chance. Frigga isn't here. If you want to see her again, you need to let me bring you back." 

Desperation flashed across Loki's face and she knew she'd struck a nerve. Then he snarled at her like a feral animal, which perhaps he was at this point. 

"You'll want something from me. Last time, they wanted me to attack an entire planet just to figure out if they would fight back. In case you're wondering, they did. I deserve where I've ended up. It wasn't even that bad of a death. That thing that killed Mother stabbed me just like he did with her-" here he jabbed a hand into his chest. "I died in my brother's arms after telling him I was sorry. Why would I want to go back? I'm bound for here anyway." 

"Maybe not. You could try to redeem yourself. You'll live long enough to do just about anything, if you quit getting yourself killed. I'm not always going to be here to bring you back. You need to be more careful-" 

"Just stop. Everything I do just makes things worse. Father was right. I was meant for death a long time ago." 

Hela closed her eyes. Perhaps he was right. Every time she'd brought him back, it had been for herself. For a weapon, for company, for a future favor, and what did she want now? 

She wanted Odin dead. Call it mercy, call it better for Asgard to have a new ruler, call it justice, call it revenge, call it what you like, if Loki was after redemption, that wouldn't help. But she couldn't let this chance slip by. She wouldn't get another one. 

"Where are you?" 

"Right here, where I'd prefer to stay." 

"Where's your body? I can fix it. It won't hurt. 

"Why would you want that? Nothing is out of the goodness of your heart, if you even have one. What's this supposed resurrection going to cost me?" 

Hela caught a trace of a memory not her own. 

"You took me for a purpose; what was it?" 

Loki simply had no concept of unconditional love. What he'd gotten from Frigga, the only person who hadn't betrayed him, was gone with her death. Maybe that was a form of betrayal. Little wonder, though, that Odin had encountered difficulty explaining why. 

"I want you to get rid of Odin for me. Kill him yourself or get someone else to do it, I don't care. Whichever you prefer. He dies, and I can get out of here." 

The look on Loki's face was an odd mix of incredulity and anger. "You talk of redemption-" 

"He's done wrong, to both of us and many others, and you can fix it. Call it mercy if that helps. He'll be with his wife again. He certainly can't keep ruling Asgard. There's a storm coming, and he's far too weak to weather it. We need to be stronger, or we won't make it." 

Total disbelief this time. Then: "You do realize I won't remember this conversation." 

"I'll figure something out. Where are you?" 

Loki sighed dejectedly and muttered something that might have been "Even Hel doesn't want me". Maybe he had a point. 

"I'm on Svartalfheim." 

X 

The portal was less stained this time. Either Frigga's death was something special, or Asgard couldn't handle death like Svartalfheim could. Without Loki's direction, she would never have known where to look. 

Other beings were wandering between worlds, heading in any number of directions. Thanks to the Convergence, they could. She already knew that some of them would push it too far and end up stranded in a world not their own once the Convergence had passed. Worse, though, were the ones that would be trapped in the portal proper when it contracted again. Few could navigate a portal in that condition. Most would become sealed in some forgotten pathway to suffocate or starve. 

The only beings that caught her attention for more than a passing glance were Thor and some mortal companion of his. The two of them were headed for Midgard. They exchanged eye contact, briefly, and that was it. 

Following the way they'd come, Hela finally glimpsed her goal. 

Svartalfheim was completely dead, permanently stranded in the semi-darkness of a total solar eclipse. A perfect home for the Dark Elves. But nothing grew there. They raided other Realms for needed supplies, and when those began to fight back, ultimately resorted to altering their very bodies with the Aether just to survive. No malice intended, but that had led to a war anyway. The rest, as they say, is history. 

None of this mattered to Hela, only the result of the latest skirmish. The dead Elves she'd spirited away lay in various configurations: mostly stab wounds, one with a snapped neck, two that looked like they'd been smashed with Mjolnir, which was probably exactly what happened. 

And Loki. 

“We need to stop meeting like this, brother.” 

He lay absolutely still on the ashen ground, left hand draped over his chest. Kneeling next to her brother and lifting his arm, Hela uncovered a brutal stab wound. She could only guess that one of the Elves had run him completely through. Not a gentle way to go. 

For all her power and skill, she was no healer. She could only repair the final damage. The rest would have to heal on its own. 

"With the Eternal Flame, you are reborn." 

Why she always used that phrase, she wasn't sure. It may have done nothing, anything, or everything. Power flowed from deep in Asgard, through the portal, through her hands, and into Loki's body. Flesh knit itself together under her hands. Then a slow but steady heartbeat, and his skin regained its usual glamour. Memories of his flooded into Hela as their minds touched. 

Thanos. The mad Titan. 

That scepter, scrambling perceptions and memories to sow seeds of discord everywhere it went. The original intention had been to keep the Sakaarians from agreeing with each other, banding together, and overthrowing their Grandmaster. Now it served to enable Loki to take over the mortal's minds while destroying his bond with anyone who could help him. Thor, Frigga, even Odin, all were corrupted inside Loki's head. Only the brutality of his imprisonment and Frigga's violent death had managed to knock the scepter's influence loose. 

Shaking off the vicious influence, Hela pushed back. Kill Odin. One simple command. That was all she needed. Loki could do anything he wanted after that. 

Hela promised herself that she would find him after it was done, make him her second-in-command if he wanted. Thor could stay on Midgard with the mortals he loved so much. The throne would be hers. It was her birthright as Odin's firstborn. 

Loki gasped for air, thrashing violently about as his face twisted in pain. "What- who-" 

One last push of her command, and Hela released him. Already, the Convergence was over and the portal was collapsing in on itself. Odin't power drove her back into it, guiding her way to Helheim. Not for much longer. Loki wouldn't be able to resist her influence. He probably would have killed Odin of his own volition given the chance. 

Back in her cave, Hela set about sharpening her swords, stifling a grim chuckle. 

Not much longer, now. You just have to wait and be patient. 

X 

Why am I back? 

The wound in his chest throbbed horribly, but somehow, Loki knew he would live. Thor and Jane were gone. For the millionth time, he'd been abandoned. 

Instead of the usual hurt, he felt only freedom. No more dungeon cell, no cuffs, no one who even knew he was alive. He could go anywhere, in theory. Some itch in the back of his mind pointed him towards Asgard. Might as well. 

Standing up yielded hot pain in the wound, but nothing he couldn't handle. One foot in front of the other, he trudged towards the portal. The trip had been much faster on the way in, flying their pirated skiff. Unfortunately, it was crashed and splintered now thanks to Thor's inescapably bad piloting skills. 

Weirdly, he missed Thor. 

The glowing portal he'd nearly convinced himself he couldn't remember. Some unknown force guiding him home. Or what passed for "home" now that Frigga was gone, Odin had practically disowned him, and Thor may or may not ever return. But it called to him, and he answered. 

He'd retrieved his favorite pair of daggers, which Thor had given to him once they left the skiff. Absentmindedly, he pulled one out and began flipping it with his fingers. His hands still had their skill. It was his magic that was the problem; much of it seemed directed towards healing that stupid wound. Not that he was complaining. Even this was an improvement over being locked in that cell. For that matter, anything was. But he would have gone back to it in a heartbeat if it meant he could see Frigga again. 

It was strange, upon reflection, that entering that portal from Asgard required flying into a mountain, although not necessarily at the breakneck speed he’d used to impress Thor. It had taken him quite some time to find the entrance, longer because he’d convinced his parents he had no memory of traveling between worlds. It was easier than trying to explain the half-memories of a strange woman and a battle he would never understand. 

The exit point, unlike everywhere else he’d visited, was miles away from the entrance, inside the Vault as it turned out. Perhaps whoever decided that sort of thing wanted direct access to Asgard’s finest treasures, or conversely, to the most heavily defended place on the planet. He reminded himself to be careful. The Destroyer was gone, but there would certainly be guards. 

Stopping for a moment to think, Loki realized something was wrong. Between dying in Thor’s arms and absurdly, waking up again, something had happened. There was that feeling again, of someone trying to mind-control him. Specifically, someone lacking any particular skill with such a task. The first time, he’d been aware of it for the whole invasion and only the horror of Frigga’s death had shaken it loose. By then, he’d been too far gone to care. 

This particular compulsion, kill Odin, fell to pieces as soon as he realized it existed. If he did kill the All-father, which perhaps he would, it would be of his own free will. 

Ahead on the right, someone was banging on the rock. They must have gotten trapped when the Convergence lapsed. Not my problem, he told himself. 

Moving on, he realized he had to come up with some sort of plan. Showing his face was a bad idea in any case, so he took the face of one of the guards killed in the dungeon skirmish. No risk of running into the real person, an awkward experience he’d had to talk his way out of previously. The bodies were too destroyed to identify; there was little to no chance of anyone realizing the deception. 

And now, the Vault. 

Loki allowed himself a few moments simply to browse. The Tesseract, that blue cube that tempted him, in a way, but he knew better than to try anything with it. At least, for the moment. A few objects he recognized, more he didn’t. The Eternal Flame that flared up when he passed by. It always had, just with him. One of the many ways he never fit in with the rest of his family. The Casket of Ancient Winters he understood all too well. It had gone off the bridge with him, in a pocket dimension. Thanos had somehow never noticed it; Loki couldn’t explain that part. Naturally, Odin had confiscated it before locking him in the dungeons. 

None of them mattered to his current task. 

Odin was standing in front of his throne, much as he had expected. The room was otherwise empty. Perfect. 

"Forgive me, my liege." 

The words were harsh against the silence of the throne room. Odin turned around and met the "Einherjar"'s gaze, though his mind seemed elsewhere. Perhaps it was with Frigga. 

"I've returned from the dark world with news." 

"Thor?" 

That would be your first thought, Father. Your golden child. Of course you're worried about him. 

"There was no sign of Thor, or the weapon. But-" 

"What?" 

Loki had a feeling Odin already suspected what was coming next. "We found a body." By instinct, he assumed the demeanor of a loyal soldier passing on difficult news. Odin looked just as solemn. 

"Loki." 

"You have my condolences, All-father. If-" 

"Do you know what happened? A battle, or-" Odin's voice cut out, and he dropped to the ground, letting go of Gungnir. Letting the disguise drop, Loki moved to catch him and carefully laid him on the golden steps. There was an odd sense of deja vu, back to the Vault, and questions of his own parentage. Now, no one knew what was going on, except perhaps Heimdall, who was likely still busy avoiding the soldiers sent to arrest him. There was no point in maintaining a disguise. 

Transporting Odin to his usual healing bed would prove easy enough, but after a moment, Loki remembered he didn't have to anymore. He could slit his "father"'s throat easily enough, take his place, and no one would be the wiser. Which raised the question of whether he wanted to. 

Surprisingly, even after everything Odin had said -"Your birthright was to die", "Frigga is the only reason you are still alive", "No, Loki"- Loki couldn't deny there was a remnant of whatever bond they'd once had. At least, there was a remnant for him. 

One of the books Frigga had smuggled him in his cell was about touching another being's mind. Thoughts could be shared, memories transmitted, and perhaps some sort of empathy developed. That last part was likely his mother's goal. But he'd never had a chance to try that approach. Now, however... 

Naturally, the first place he wanted to look was the battle on Jotunheim. Blood and death, to no one's surprise. Odin losing his eye in a duel with Laufey. Taking the Casket, then- 

Memories stopped at that point. Figures. I finally get a chance to look for answers, and they still aren't there. 

Then Odin was in the Odinsleep for the first time, and some woman he recognized but could not name was standing over him, hand on his forehead. That same spell. It could explain why the memories weren't working. 

Meeting Frigga and baby Loki for what seemed like the first time. That made no sense. But it seemed accurate, with none of the haze that suggested memory alteration. That was everywhere he went trying to identify the mysterious woman with hair like his own. Could Odin have erased his own memories? 

One intact memory of her, along with Frigga, Thor, and Loki. Frigga's garden, and what could have passed for a wedding. A laughing Odin, holding Loki and promising to love him as his own. That promise may have meant nothing, but it had been said. Then: "Finding you and bringing you home was one of the best things I ever did." One couldn't fake memories of emotions without muddling the memory, and this one was pure. The only memory of the strangely familiar woman that Odin hadn't erased was obviously his favorite. 

Loki released the spell. There wouldn't be answers about the woman. But there were answers about Odin. 

"I had to know. We'd better get you somewhere safe, Father." 

X 

Loki had briefly toyed with the idea of getting Odin to his healing bed and leaving Asgard entirely. There was a whole universe to hide in. Everyone thought him dead. In the end, the deciding factor was Odin's inability to cope with the Dark Elves' original attack. Not that Loki could claim a better handling of Frigga's death, but at least he'd gone with Thor to help Jane, and that conflict seemed to have resolved itself. 

Odin was unfit to rule. He had been at least since Frigga died. Ideally, he should have retired as king some years back. 

And whose fault is it that he didn't? 

For the moment, Loki declined to enumerate the reasons that wouldn't have worked. Maybe it would now- Thor had improved dramatically in the past few years. So that was something of a plan. Get Odin out of here, and offer Thor the throne when he comes back. If he doesn't, then take over yourself. You'd be good at it. 

Liar. 

But someone has to. 

Decision made, Loki loaded Odin onto a stretcher. Convergence or otherwise, he could get Odin away. Midgard would work. They took care of random people, and maybe Thor would find him. 

That was a strange thought. Thor coming back and discovering Loki's survival, as it were, would be awkward, but part of him wanted his brother back even now. Looking back, how much of his mischief had been simple curiosity as to how far he could push something without getting caught? Come to think of it, that had probably been most of it. 

The portal was harder to negotiate this time, steering another stolen skiff through narrower passages with Odin tucked safely in the bottom. But it wasn't hard to find Midgard. That pointless realm had been the center of a massive conflict. With some imagination, Loki could picture Thor smashing everything in sight with his hammer, Jane somehow figuring out a weakness in a species she'd heard of for the first time seconds previously, and maybe that scientist -Aaron, was it?- offering his own guidance. Everything had come together to fix that particular problem. 

When they passed by the same stretch where previously he'd heard someone banging there was now only unsteady breathing, as if whoever was caught in there had completely given up on escape. Damn it. 

Parking the skiff, he jumped out. The rock wall was completely sealed off, trapping whoever it was inside. A little spellwork found the shortest path to the person -an adult human- and broke through the cracks. 

"Hello?" 

The woman blinked owlishly in the skiff's lantern. "I just wanted to look around, then I couldn't get out... Thank you so much. I'm Shania. Who are you?" 

"I am Loki," he said simply, and perhaps that was enough for either of them. "Come with us." 

The two of them climbed in the skiff and set off again. After a few long minutes, prisms of color blossomed around them and they shout out into the shadowy daylight under some sort of bridge. Shania looked absolutely relieved, and Loki had to admit he enjoyed the feeling of having saved her from a grim fate. 

With a final "Thank you", the interplanetary hitchhiker left for whatever life she had here, and Loki could focus on getting his father somewhere safe. Not too far away, there was some place calling itself "Shady Acres." Older mortals inside, nearing the end of their short lives. It would suffice. When he knocked at the door, they were surprised, but took Odin in without question. Loki left them with a few instructions and without a backward glance. 

Only after departing did he realize that he'd left his father in the same city the Chitauri had once ransacked. Fitting, in a way. The circle was complete. 

As Loki returned to Asgard, he felt a smile cross his face, probably the first one since that debacle that had been Thor's coronation. Maybe I'm not so bad after all.


	10. Glorious

I would like to dedicate this chapter to my sister, as it is her birthday. Anyway, last chapter, thanks for reading/reviewing, and keep an eye out for the sequel! 

X 

"Oscar" never questioned the story Loki had put in his head. 

He'd been an only child, raised by a wealthy businessman and his trophy wife. At a moment's notice, they would jump on a boat, or later, in a fancy contraption known as a "jet airplane". Exactly once, they'd gone on their own. Oscar had been reading the morning newspaper when two men in suits rang the doorbell. That was a bad day. 

Witnesses reported pieces of the airplane plummeting from the sky into the ocean. A few bodies were found, but neither of his parents. Every now and then, Oscar would visit the beach closest to the crash site. That was the closest he ever got to a funeral. 

Inheriting his father's corporate empire -build around developing and selling military aircraft- brought him various women hoping for a slice of wealth. The first who caught his eye was named Veronica. They married in fairly short order, and nine months later, right on schedule, their daughter Helen was born. 

Veronica had just handed him the baby to inspect when she let out a choking cry and began to seize violently. The doctors said it was something called eclampsia. She was dead within hours. Later, he would realize a certain amount of justice in Loki giving him the guilt of responsibility for his first wife's death. He was certainly no angel. 

Raising Helen on his own proved too difficult. A few nannies came and went, and when Helen was about nine, one of them, named Faith, staked her claim on his heart. They married, had a son named Thomas, and lived happily. 

When a story broke on the news about a newborn abandoned at a local church, Faith couldn't resist. He'd agreed to visit the babyin the hospital, and even put their names in to adopt him, not really believing they had a chance. They brought baby Luke home a few days later. 

All of this he related to a young woman named Piper, who listened with fascination. Something about her unborn child touched a memory, and the dam broke. They talked for hours, with the young woman occasionally offering smiles, or condolences, or a touch of her hand. 

Even as he spoke, he knew that what he said was untrue. The memories had been planted to keep him happily docile. they were nothing but a beautiful lie. 

That, too, was justice. 

Finding the truth would take power he didn't have. That would have to come from somewhere else. Where exactly it usually came from, he couldn't recall, but he knew another way to get it. 

When Piper left, he turned to the man next to him. David. He was just a mortal, and dying already. No one would question another death in a place like this. 

Laying one hand on David's forehead, he began to absorb the man's life force. It didn't take long before David's breathing slowed to a stop. Peaceful enough. That seemed to be the goal with mortals, to have their last moments be something they enjoyed. So different from the glorious death to which the Aesir aspired, but following the same logic. 

It was time to leave that place. There was somewhere he wanted to go. Back to before everything had gone wrong. Or were they destined for trouble from the beginning? 

His feet carried him first to a park, the only green space in the middle of the mortals' busy city. Individuals and families went about their busy lives, moving in every direction. 

One person lay still, wrapped in one of the black bags that usually held spoiled food, empty packaging, or what else. Discarded on the roadside, they would be whisked off into oblivion. But whoever this was, they were still breathing. This one was sick, certainly. So many of these people had that kind of problem. A quick spell, memories and power coming back just a bit, and the breathing grew deeper and steadier. 

Why he even bothered, he couldn't be sure. The mortals had so many ways of cutting their short lives even shorter. Maybe he just wanted to do something good, one last time. 

"Your majesty." 

The solemn voice was so unexpected, Odin (yes, that was his real name) at first didn't realize it was directed at him. The dark-haired man with a cape -unusual for a Midgardian- had appeared out of nowhere. A few red-gold sparks faded out of existence behind him. 

"And you are..." 

"Doctor Steven Strange. You've been using magic, and I want to know why." 

"I- it was just a healing spell. I'm trying to leave." 

"Back to Asgard?" 

"No." 

Why did I say that? 

Loki or Thor must have been ruling it. Not too badly either, since Asgard was still in one piece. He could tell that much, somewhere in that part of him that drew strength from the planet's core. But he wouldn't live much longer, even if he went back, even if he never left. It was time for the next generation to take over. There was, however, one place left he wanted to see. 

"Can you send me to Norway?" 

X 

It had been so long since Odin had set foot here. Back when Frigga was healing from a birth gone wrong, Hela was a loyal soldier, Thor hadn't even caused his first thunderstorm, and Loki had yet to put in an appearance at all. 

Where exactly his youngest had come from, he had long been uncertain. Memories of finding him abandoned in the snow, as he'd related that day in the Vault, he'd known even then were false. He'd never even bothered to ask Frigga if it was her doing. But no, she would have done it better, so he wouldn't realize. Which left Hela, but to what end? 

It mattered little. They would never see each other again. Maybe that was better. 

No trace remained of the portal the Jotuns had traversed in the original invasion. They'd done their work well. A few rocks marked the spot, on the edge of a cliff. A beautiful place, truly. The sun shone on it nearly every day. Just as well. He wouldn't be leaving, not alive at any rate. At least he would see Frigga again, and his first wife. But there was something of a letdown, to die without a struggle. Not what it should have been. 

So many things left unsaid. Questions left unanswered. What happened to Loki after the Bifrost broke? Where had he gone wrong as a father (aside from thinking he would be good at it)? What would have made a difference? 

It became harder and harder to hold on as the days wore on. He supposed he should have been grateful to Loki for leaving him in a good place. He could no longer manage on his own. But hold on, just a little bit longer- 

A yelp and a thud, and the sense of magic behind him. No one could ever arrive somewhere quite the way his children could. 

He called them his sons, because that was who they were. He told them about Hela, as much as he could. He told them he loved them, because that was the truth. 

There was some sense of regret, that they did not have enough time for him to fix all of the mistakes he'd made as a father, but then again, no amount of time would have been enough. All he could do was say the important things. He'd wanted a struggle. Looking at Loki one last time, telling him Frigga would have been proud, because he could not voice his own pride, that was a struggle. After all they'd been through, to say "I love you" one last time, and genuinely mean it, that was perhaps even harder, but he managed that, too. 

It would have to be enough. 

Slipping away at the end was gentle, the aches and pains of thousands of years loosing their hold. The cliff, the rocks, the clouds, his children, all faded away with his body. 

Then it was pure light. 

X 

The deaths of the soldiers had been unfortunately necessary. People would mourn them, want to avenge them, that sort of thing, but Hela had their unquestioning obedience now. They had died their glorious deaths. 

Asgard would have to become stronger. Loki's idea of ruling had been to pull everyone back to the planet itself; they abandoned their allies and neighbors to retreat like a turtle to its shell. Understandable; her absent sibling was no fool. There was a storm coming. She'd hoped he would turn out like her, but there was so much of Odin in him she couldn't help joking to herself that he and Thor must have been switched at some point. 

Somewhere in there, Hela almost regretted throwing him out of the Bifrost. He hadn't shown up anywhere, so he was probably alive, and for that matter, so was Thor. But there was no reason to tell the rest of Asgard. If they showed up, she would deal with them then. Other than that, what had she to fear? 

Thanos came to mind. 

Hela's brief glimpse into Nebula's memories scared her more than she cared to admit. The Mad Titan was a plague of locusts, devouring everything in his path. Or he was your average predator, picking off the weak ones first. Skurge had told her about Midgard; that pathetic little planet had grown up in Asgard's absence. They were the first ones to fight back. Little wonder that Thanos had changed from simple slaughter to seeking the Infinity Stones, if rumors from the dead were to be believed. 

Even for Hela, the prospect was unsettling. 

Asgard's population had dropped considerably due to the soldier's mutiny and her suppression of it. Yes, that was a good word. Don't call it murder. They would have killed you given the chance. On the other hand, it wasn't so much a problem of numbers. Having twice the planets would solve the problem just as well as having half the people. 

Fortunately, there were eight other Realms to conquer and she came equipped with an undead army. Unfortunately, the portal could never handle that many at once and the Bifrost sword was missing. Gungnir used to have that ability, but something was different about the bridge now; perhaps it had been rebuilt at some point and Odin wanted no one but Heimdall to have that ability. That had a certain logic to it. 

Understanding it didn’t have to mean she liked it, right? 

X 

Thor announced his arrival in classic form: by pounding on something. That was who he was. Hela couldn't fault him for that, not really. But they couldn't both rule Asgard. Perhaps she would use him for a second-in-command, if he was worthy. He certainly had the strength. Removing his eye simply ensured that he would always be weaker than she. 

Or so she told herself. That lightning strike was impressive, at any rate. Impressive, but futile. Maybe he believed that lie she'd fed him about killing all of Asgard's people to get the sword. They were such children. She'd threatened one of them and they caved. 

A glimpse of Loki running flat-out for the palace. Whatever that was about. She would deal with him later. He was so desperate for affection, it wouldn't take much to draw him in. He hadn't remembered her on Midgard; he'd just been scared. Which he should have been. He would be a useful asset. 

Then Thor pretended to surrender Asgard to her, and something went wrong. A rumbling under her feet. Fire pouring from the palace. 

Surtur. 

The worst fear of any Asgardian with a brain. The legendary prophecy of Ragnarok, the destruction of the world. It was supposed to come back, to start again, but nothing would be left of anyone by then. Were her brothers so afraid of her that they would prefer him? Is that what she'd become? 

Seeking Asgard's throne had been a mistake. Too late now. 

Fighting back against Surtur, much as with Thor's green smashy friend, was purely out of instinct. She held no hope of victory, or even survival. But it was a battle. She died her glorious death. 

Instead of Valhalla, though, she was completely and utterly alone.


End file.
